


Falling Away

by crescenttwins



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Gift Exchange, Head Injury, M/M, Mecha, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9656906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescenttwins/pseuds/crescenttwins
Summary: (Pacific Rim!AU) Rest would be much easier without the metallic tang of blood in his mouth and the dull numbness in his right leg, Lelouch thinks absently. His head is heavy, leaning on something hard; the thrum of his heartbeat is echoing along the curves of his cheeks.A geassvalentines2017 gift for eendroid!





	

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was a journey to write, and it would be remiss of me not to thank everyone who helped polish it: Kura, for her research for my nonsensical ponderings and for double-checking the flow of the story; Charis, for taking the time to iron out the places where the writing was tangled and baffling; and Gogo, for her insight into the Pacific Rim canon, which I was new to! All remaining mistakes are ones I foolishly snuck in afterwards. Please feel free to point any out and I'll happily edit them! 
> 
> ...
> 
> NOTE 1: To be a bit closer to Pacific Rim canon, the control of the Knightmare Frames is closer to that of a Knight Giga Fortress than a Knightmare Frame. If you need a quick refresher (like I did :D), this translates to a larger cockpit, neural linkage of the pilot to the mecha, and the pilot stands while operating.
> 
> NOTE 2: A change from Pacific Rim canon-- no Conn-Pods in this fic! Pilots use cockpits that are integrated into the Knightmare Frames to sidestep problems related to size discrepancies between Knightmare Frames and Jaegars. YAY AUs!

>     _\--visual confirmation of a Category 2 Kaiju, codename Siegfried, near the coastline. Five miles before contact. Gawain is down, I repeat, Gawain is down. Gekka is approaching to assist. ...I--I don’t understand, it’s continuing to ignore Gekka--_

An alarm is blaring in Lelouch’s ear. His right fist is extended, wrapped in metal wires and coil heavy enough to be a shackle. Blood is dripping down his face; his right leg is on fire. The usual half-light of their cockpit doesn’t help the flare of pain behind his eyes. When he turns his head, he can see C.C. hanging limply from her harness. She’s unconscious, eyes closed and her HUD lit up with warnings as relay gel drips out of the cracks in her helmet. Her consciousness is a fluttering thing in the Drift, slipping past him when he tries to rouse her.

The Kaiju dominates the screen of their shared HUD, gnashing teeth as it struggles to tear away from the dead weight of their Knightmare Frame. The creature looks more like a sea urchin up close, five spikes extruding from its body. They’d quickly learned that the ones on its back act more like tails than barbs; sharp points that had burst suddenly outward to take out the Gawain’s Float System and drag them down with the thick fibrous tissue connecting the barbs to its main body.  

Lelouch twists his extended fist, lets the command surge through the relay gel and slide through his spine into the clamp that connects him to the Knightmare Frame. Gawain drives their blade a little deeper into the flesh beneath an exposed barb.

Lelouch isn’t a _cadet_ ; he’s a pilot, and he knows when he’s about to lose.

But beyond being a pilot of Gawain, Lelouch is a _field commander,_ and he won’t let anyone die unnecessarily. A hiss of pain escapes his lips as he stretches forward, slamming his left hand against the control panel above their HUD.

... 

“Isn’t a bit ironic that _you_ of all people are using the last dual-piloted Knightmare Frame in operation? I mean given what replaced the Pons system--”

“Suzaku,” Lelouch says, “I know. I’ve heard this before.” He peels himself off the floor of the combat room, wincing at the soreness in his muscles.

Beside him, Suzaku springs out of his crouch, twisting a long staff in his hands easily to offer it to Lelouch. “Ready to try again?”

Lelouch accepts the staff with a sigh, pushing himself to his feet. “I’m not certain what you get out of these training sessions,” he says. He watches the other male move across the room, picking up the second staff that had flown spectacularly when he disarmed Lelouch a moment before.

“Call it...assurance,” Suzaku replies. “Long distance support or not, you’re at my back and you never know what will happen in combat.” He shifts into a fighting stance smoothly, tip of the staff pointed towards Lelouch. An easy smile. “Besides, you should also know what I’m capable of, to best use me in the field, right?”

“I do well enough with Kallen,” Lelouch argues, “without her throwing me to the floor every other day.”

“But she specializes in hand-to-hand,” Suzaku says, “and you can get a good idea of that by watching her in the Kwoon Combat Room. It’s different when you’re using weapons.”

Lelouch rolls his eyes, adjusts the grip on his staff, and bargains, “If you let me win, I won’t tell Rakshata that you don’t consider her Radiant Wave Surger a weapon.” He steps forward, pushing his staff out in an arc to catch Suzaku in the ribs.

His opponent drops to the ground, a leg kicking out to slide Lelouch’s ankles out from under him. The impact of the ground pushes the air from his lungs, and he closes his eyes for a moment as he regains control of his breathing.

A shadow passes over him, and Suzaku says, smug, “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you have a partner to help you pilot, with those reflexes.”

...

Rest would be much easier without the metallic tang of blood in his mouth and the dull numbness in his right leg, Lelouch thinks absently. His head is heavy, leaning on something hard; the thrum of his heartbeat is echoing along the curves of his cheeks.

His breathing wisps through the artificial sounds of his cockpit, the mechanical creaking of his harness as it fights to keep him upright. There is something dripping on the floor, he registers, but he can’t pull his head up enough to look. Everything is heavy, exhausted, and it would be so easy to just--

A roar rips through the air; his body trembles in response--

Lelouch pushes against the heaviness, follows the shiver of fear, inhales sharply as he shudders into consciousness.

The Kaiju-- _Siegfried_ \-- has gotten one of its spiked tails free. In the corner of the HUD, past the bulk of Siegfried’s body and the disturbed sea, he can see Toudou’s Gekka taking consecutive hits as the appendage thrashes through the water.

There are heavy scores in the other mecha’s arms and its rifle is missing.

Lelouch blinks against the crusting in his lashes, licks the blood he can feel sticking to his lips, and shakes his head.

The rush of dizziness is followed by the slow awareness that his head is aching, the neural strain of piloting the Knightmare Frame pulling his body to pieces. He feels rather than sees that Gawain has gone slack, and when Lelouch moves his stare to the other side of the cockpit, the mecha’s second harness-- C.C.’s connector-- is resting empty just above the ground.

Lelouch’s initial elation is quickly overcome by something that feels very much like despair: the abrupt understanding that Siegfried could break free from the Gawain’s hold at any moment.

In battle, the advantage can turn in an instant.

And he really doesn’t need a refresher on that particular lesson.

...

“Sir! I have a signature emerging from the Breach!” The report is repeated throughout the room, into communicators and ears alike. A cadet fumbles a file at the announcement, papers spilling onto the desk.

There’s something to be said, Lelouch thinks, about fear of the unknown. Humanity leaves no stone unturned-- has walked on and learned about every inch of the land that it inhabits, forces nature to give way to its needs and accept its signs of possession. But humanity has never been able to conquer the oceans, the depths where pressure forces the development of beasts. So it seems only natural that these monsters, too, would rise from the ocean. That the Breach would appear in the sea; a portal for the Kaiju, the monsters that are singularly equipped to exterminate humanity.

“Category,” he commands, even as he feels the connection plate snap into the back of his armored suit, “how big is it?” Lelouch proceeds into the cockpit alone, closes his eyes as the relay gel is fed into his helmet.

“C-category two,” the operator says. “Category two, sir.”

A behemoth, then, but a manageable one. Too much to handle with a single Knightmare Frame. Lelouch closes his eyes again briefly in irritation, mind flicking through their viable options. Their fleet is still under repair-- Kallen’s Guren was immobilized after last week’s skirmish, which alone halves the power of their front line. “Status of the Lancelot?”

As the relay gel drains into the body of his suit, he settles into the co-pilot harness, stays relaxed as his boots and gloved wrists are locked into a mechanical frame. The back plate is bulky as always, spinal clamp snapping into his connection plate. Hydraulics hiss as the harness accommodates the change in balance.

Murmuring between the crew, then, “Repair of the Lancelot’s arms is still underway. Time to completion is estimated at six hours.”

Lelouch bites back the curse on his lips. “All repair teams are to prioritize the Lancelot’s restoration. If nothing else, it must be mobile enough to provide support.” C.C. enters the cockpit, moving directly to the left harness that mirrors his own. “Get Toudou’s Gekka loaded into the transport carrier immediately-- he’ll be taking the front. We’ll provide mid range support in the Gawain.” She seats herself immediately, boots and wrists locking into place and eyes opening as the relay gel drains from her helmet.

“Yes sir,” thunders down the line.

Lelouch settles onto the balls of his feet and flicks a look at C.C. “You’re late.”

C.C. smiles at him, says, pointed, “I needed to punish a knight with impure intentions towards his liege.”

A feminine voice announces, _Initiating Drift Sequence_.

He knows better than to hope it drowns out his exhale of surprise, or the way he licks his lips unconsciously. It wouldn’t matter if it did-- _nothing_ is kept secret in the Drift.

They’ve done this a thousand times, minds slipping together as memories kaleidoscope around them. Around them, they can feel the HUD screens initializing, the feel of the stale air in the hanger, the influx of extrasensory connections into their nervous systems.

When they open their eyes, it is in unison.

...

People think that they understand war, through history books and movies-- through rosy lenses of righteousness and hope. They witness crime and await the police; they see monsters and expect them to be defeated. But there’s a human toll for every event. Whether it’s lives, or machines, or peace of mind: there’s always a price for peace.

It’s a price Lelouch would pay a thousand times over for his sister. Because she’s paid enough, more than a civilian needed to, more than their parents should have ever allowed.

People look at Lelouch and think _purebred military brat_ . But people look at Nunnally and think _an unavoidable tragedy_.

They don’t understand war-- there’s no such thing as unavoidable tragedy; there’s no toll paid that wasn’t writ in someone’s blood and intent. An unavoidable tragedy is a way of distancing themselves when they need to open their eyes and understand how expensive their so-called peace is.

Siegfried’s front barb contacts the Gawain’s right leg, glancing pressure. When C.C. fires the plasma cannon, the left shoulder weapon nestled under the creature’s jaw-- the barb pierces through metal.

The agony that tears through Lelouch’s leg doesn’t give him time to gasp for air.

 _Lelouch--?!_ C.C. calls through the Drift. _Worry-fear-anger-determination_ follows.

“Keep firing,” Lelouch grits, mind too filled with _pain pain pain enemy_ . He can vaguely hear Toudou calling over the comms, too focused on driving their blade through the creature’s main body and into the sea floor. If they can pin it here, they can buy enough time for the Gekka to arrive. He follows C.C.’s lead, commands _fire fire fire_ from the cannon on Gawain’s right shoulder.

For the Gawain’s right leg and Lelouch’s suffering, Siegfried pays with two of its seven bolas-like barbs.

...

“The Gawain is the last of its generation,” Rakshata says, tapping her pipe against the wall. “A Knightmare Frame that imposes a heavy enough neural load to require two pilots for safe piloting.”

“What’s the tradeoff?” Kallen asks, lounging atop the divider between the Gawain and her Guren. “Not size of machine, for sure.”

“They say the pilots of the old generation lasted longer,” the scientist says. “But we don’t have enough pilots anymore to allow for such luxuries, I’m afraid.”

The other girl looks upwards, eyes caught by the silver sheen of Guren’s right claw. “You make it sound like living is a luxury,” she snorts.

“I wonder,” Rakshata murmurs.

Letting herself slip off the divider, Kallen lands in a crouch near Guren’s feet. “I heard one of the two coming in for that thing,” Kallen gestures roughly at Gawain, “is pilot royalty. You have any details on that?”

“I have enough,” the reply comes, sharper than she expected, “The boy is the child of Marianne, pilot of Flash, and Charles, who piloted Britannia. The two late developers of the Ragnarok System that sits in your lovely Guren there.” A pause. “The other pilot is apparently one of the first users of the system. Not much data on her though-- none of the early users of the Ragnarok system are still active.”

The pilot pushes to the balls of her feet. “Interesting.”

“Isn’t it?” the other woman drawls, “Now why would two people like that prefer the old Pons system?”

Kallen shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter. As long as they’re good enough to watch my back.”

...

Lelouch doesn’t remember the impact of the Siegfried’s barbs with the Float System.

He remembers seeing Toudou’s Gekka contact the water, moving forward to engage the Kaiju with successive hits of his favored plasma rifle.

A command, from his own mouth, “Disengaging transport. Activate Float System.”

The sensation of falling too quickly, a brief moment before the system kicked in and allowed them to hover over the water.

C.C.’s conscious prodded him, and they laid a line of cover fire to give Toudou time to recharge his rifle.

Standard procedure, with two Knightmare Frames in the field.

They pulled back the fire when Toudou’s rifle came up, let the other pilot’s beam scrape against the edge of Siegfried’s outer shell.

And then--

Siegfried had been flying, Lelouch recalls slowly, pushing out its spines and spinning them like helicopter blades.

“The Kaiju are learning-- they’re adapting to our strategies,” he said. “It’s coming after us, C.C.!”

A spark of amusement amongst the growing tension in the Drift.

“It would be hard to miss something the size of a small house coming at us,” his co-pilot responded dryly.

The radio had crackled--

> _\--It’s ignoring the Gekka! I repeat, the Kaiju is ignoring the--_

“And what fine company we keep,” C.C. continued.

The realization solidified in the Drift before either of them had the chance to voice it: _Gawain is too slow, not maneuverable enough to avoid collision--_

As one mind, they deactivated the Float System.

And dropped.

...

Suzaku pulls her aside on her way to the cockpit, even as they hear the Kaiju alarm sound. There are reports of a Category 2 coming over the speaker system. C.C. can already hear Lelouch giving orders, voice certain and stern; the mind that weaves a barrier between the Kaiju and civilians.

“Please take care of him,” Suzaku says, low and urgent. His hands are curled into fists, and C.C. can’t help the feeling of fondness for these two stubborn fools.

Still.

“I’ll take care of him because he’s my copilot,” C.C. says, in reprimand. Suzaku flinches, a hypersensitive response if she’s ever seen one. “But if you want him to be safe, you’ll need to launch soon.”

His eyes flicker to the hangar and back.

“We’ll look forward to your arrival on the battlefield, and Lelouch might even be grateful enough to give his white knight a reward, hm.”

“I’m not thinking about--”

“He isn’t used to people who love him,” C.C. says, soft, “so even if it is out of love, you shouldn’t take anything from him.”

Suzaku falls silent, and C.C. smirks.

“Not even a kiss.”

The flush on the other pilot’s face is an admission, and his incoherence her victory march.

...

Every Knightmare Frame pilot knows the risks of getting into the machine. The extrasensory input to the central nervous system taxes the resources, increases the neural load that a pilot must withstand; in early generations of the Knightmare Frames, a single pilot would have severe brain damage within fifteen minutes of being connected.

Extended strain on the nervous system rapidly leads to damage. It’s straightforward enough for a child to understand, Lelouch thinks. Such damage would lead to seizures, paralysis of the limbs and torso, loss of sensation, and excessive--

Pain flares behind his left eye, followed by a rush of numbness; he ignores it.

Excessive strain in the blood vessels of the eyes, which may lead to blindness in severe cases. There’s an entire division of the modern military devoted to minimizing the risk to pilots; a division that would have him stripped of his title of field commander if they knew he had willingly ejected his co-pilot.

The space where C.C. stands is distractingly empty, even as Lelouch scrambles for enough control to force Gawain’s limbs to lock tighter around Siegfried. He releases a silent prayer into the Drift that her escape pod was ejected far enough from the fighting that they’ll be able to pick her up intact.

Lelouch reaches out for the base of the Kaiju’s thrashing tails, and buries Gawain’s left fist in it, putting as much pressure on the appendage as he can. _Reduce mobility,_ he thinks, startlingly alone in the Drift, _Force a pinning position in case Siegfried is capable of EMP countermeasures that will disable further control._ Absently, Lelouch wonders how the others ( _Suzaku Kallen Toudou Suzaku Suzaku Suzaku)_ can stand it; being alone in battle with their own thoughts.

His parents’ gift to the military, Lelouch muses. The ability to die alone.

...

“It’s dragging us underwater,” C.C. says.

Lelouch is pushing back the ache in his shoulder blade, the sensation of the skin and bone being scraped. He exhales shakily, lets himself breathe to recenter himself. Field commander.

“Pay attention, Lelouch.” Her voice snaps. He can feel her pushing the remaining half of their Float system, angling it to resist Siegfried’s downward pull.

“It’s separating us from Toudou,” Lelouch responds without opening his eyes, “and _you_ didn’t just get your shoulder blade torn off.”

“Better a scraped shoulder blade than a crushed rib cage,” C.C. offers. “And besides, we aren’t equipped for aerial battle. Best leave that to your two knights, your _highness._ ”

Lelouch shrugs against the _teasing-concern-humor_ in the Drift. “Suzaku and Kallen are not my knights, and I. am. _not_ . _royalty_.”

“Well then,” she says, “if we aren’t waiting for a dashing rescue, you should probably start thinking about drawing our sword. If we get any deeper the seawater will disable the unlocking mechanism.”

Lelouch can feel her strain against his left side, and initiates the unlocking mechanism.

“It seems like a design flaw to have the mechanism disable,” she continues, “it isn’t as though we are expecting an unawares child come and steal a four hundred pound sword.”

“But an army might,” Lelouch says as sensation of a sword solidifies in his hand. “Best be safe.” Together, they raise the right arm, angling it towards the joint in Siegfried’s plates where barbs meet.

A moment before she deactivates the broken Float System, C.C. says, “You’d better hope your boyfriend isn’t looking or he’ll have a _fit_.”

The momentum drags them into the Kaiju, and Lelouch gracefully ignores the comment in favor of the monster’s roar when they pierce flesh.

_..._

_Fire fire fire,_ Lelouch pushes into the Drift, feels the ammunition burst from his-- Gawain’s-- shoulders and the rush of heat with the blowback.

His head is on fire, vision darkening in one eye. If he looks downwards he can see blood dripping from his harness, but where Lelouch is bleeding, he wouldn’t be able to tell. Everything is numb with pain.

A barb thrashes into Lelouch’s-- into _Gawain’s_ left shoulder-- twists and pulls the Knightmare Frame closer while trying to tear off the cannon.

(If a scream comes out of his raw throat at the neural strain and pain alike, well-- there is no one to hear it.)

 _Good_ , Lelouch lets himself think, and aims his right shoulder’s plasma cannon at the exposed base of another barb.

_Fire fire fire._

...

Suzaku knows from the start that Nunnally isn’t a topic for discussion. Lelouch guards his sister’s details carefully, wrapped in the softest tissue paper before being locked in an iron box. It is well known in Shatterdome 11 that Nunnally is the reason why Lelouch is here-- is the reason why Lelouch pushed to become a pilot against recommendation, is the reason why Lelouch fights in a Knightmare Frame today.

What Suzaku doesn’t know, until Lelouch does _this_ , is how stupidly devoted a brother he is.

“You don’t have the _right_ ,” Lelouch says, pushing into his space, “to tell me what I can and can’t do during my leave.”

Suzaku catches the bandaged arm that Lelouch waves at him as carefully as he can, glaring up the inch of height difference, and says, “ _Medical_ leave. You’re injured badly enough that you’re on ordered rest for the next week.”

“I can rest just as well on a plane and in my sister’s home,” Lelouch grits out.

“Your sister lives three days away, Lelouch!”

“My _leave_ is seven days.”

“ _Six_ of which you are planning to be forced into cramped space, without medical access.” It’s difficult to keep the snarl off of his face. “So you can spend _one day_ with your sister?”

“It’s one day more than I’ve had in _years_!” Lelouch roars, tension pulling his body tight and upright.

Out of the corner of his eye, Suzaku can see Kallen eying them from the peripheries; her stance is poised, easy, but she waits for his nod before clearing out the observers. When she’s finished, she’ll step out of the room and wait until one of them leaves.

Lelouch is silent, eyes fixed on Suzaku’s. There’s something in his face that makes Suzaku’s stomach drop. And when he finally speaks, it’s slow-- every syllable perfectly even. “What are you doing here, Suzaku?”

“I’m stopping y--”

“No,” Lelouch’s voice rings in the emptied room. “Why are you here, piloting a Knightmare frame in defense of a country that could care less about whether you survive.”

Suzaku’s exhale feels noisy and undisciplined. “Because it will allow me to protect the innocent.” The answer feels wrong on his lips, is messy but it’s so hard to _think_ \--

“That’s where we differ,” Lelouch says, cold. “I’m not some hero, Suzaku. And the only reason I pilot is so that I can protect Nunnally.” There’s something unfamiliar that slips onto his face, pulls his lips into an ironic smile before settling into thin line. “I’m not here to protect the people that don’t give a damn about me, and I’m not here to make _friends_ , either.”

Suzaku steps away, watches something victorious flash behind Lelouch’s eyes as he releases his hold on the other male’s arm. “You’re right. We--” The pain is sharp beneath his chest, because he had thought-- well. It doesn’t matter much, then. He won’t be able to convince Lelouch to stay. Not like this. “ _I_ shouldn’t force you to choose.”

“Choose--” Lelouch startles. His arm reaches towards Suzaku and, in a moment of weakness, Suzaku catches it, squeezes his hand before letting go.

He keeps the pleas trapped in his cheeks, swallows the hurt and festering anger until there is nothing, nothing but the hollow in his throat and the tightness in his jaw. “I won’t force you to choose.”

“I am not _choosing_ between you and Nunnally, Suzaku!” Lelouch says.

His eyes might be wet, Suzaku thinks.

But when he looks Lelouch’s eyes are dry, for all the pain in them, and the sight makes Suzaku’s chest tighten unpleasantly.

“No, you’re right,” Suzaku takes another step away, runs a hand through his hair. The smile is bitter on his lips, the words like bile on his tongue. “It was never a choice.”

...

“ _Survive_ ,” Lelouch says to his co-pilot even as he floods the Drift with intent; as his hand scrabbles at the HUD’s control pad to activate her escape pod mechanism. “Don’t you dare die on me, C.C.”

His right leg is still numb, pulling him off balance, and his fingers are clumsy.

C.C. half-opens her eyes as the harness pulls her upwards, towards the ceiling of the cockpit where she’ll be locked in an escape pod and jettisoned away from the battle. “You’re demanding as...always,” she says, and sends something through the Drift a moment before her spinal clamp disconnects.

The whisper comes, bundled with _exasperation-worry-exhaustion_ and the sensation of an eye-roll. _Put your poor knight out of his misery before you die, at least._

“I’m not going to die,” Lelouch says, lets the lie settle around him as the accompanying surge of sensation-pain through his spinal clamp pulls him towards the floor and into darkness.

 ...

“What do you mean, the Lancelot doesn’t have an escape pod.”

“It’s all experimental equipment,” Suzaku says, apparently unconcerned, “if I am prepared to use it, I must be prepared to die. Same as any other pilot.”

Lelouch feels his face twitch. “You need them to install an escape pod.”

“That will add unnecessary weight to support, when the energy could be used for the the new Float System instead.”

“Your wings,” Lelouch says, “are not worth your life.”

“They might save it, though.” Suzaku says, tapping the schematic. “They’re generated from the same energy as our plasma weapons-- and in addition to being more silent and recoverable than the old Float Systems, they can also generate knife projectiles.”

Lelouch sighs, settling against the divider that separates their two machines. “You’re signing your life away for shiny toys, when the old ones work perfectly fine.”

It’s easy for Suzaku to look past the other male at Gawain, technicians repairing the damage to the engine and the outer shell of its armor. “You can’t hold on to the past forever,” Suzaku thinks aloud.

It’s quiet between them for a moment, the space filled by the hum of drills and the shouting of technicians and engineers.

“The past, no,” Lelouch concedes. “But you have to hold on to the future.”

Suzaku pulls his arms upwards in an easy stretch.

“Which is why you need an escape pod.”

...

Four barbs gone, Lelouch counts through the haze of pain, three left.

One is buried in his left leg, the visceral pain a welcome relief to the numbness along his left side and the pounding in his head. In the HUD screens, he can vaguely see Toudou’s Gekka, engaging another barb.

He’s using his sword, bright red edge evidence of the new plasma weapon technology. A parry takes the Kaiju’s whipping appendage out of Lelouch’s view but Gekka shifts, attentive. There’s something familiar about the stance it takes, the smooth slide of the blade through the air that cuts connective tissue with barely a sound.

It takes him a long moment to place the motion, thoughts frustratingly disarrayed. And then--

Suzaku, Lelouch thinks. He misses Suzaku.

...

It is Lelouch’s first neural handshake with C.C., his first foray into the Drift instead of a simulation. He’s a cadet, a novice, and he shouldn’t be having this kind of opportunity with an experienced pilot.

“You’re weaponized,” Lelouch hypothesizes, “so you’re not able to flexibly interact with experienced pilot’s minds anymore.”

In the paired harness, C.C. watches at him through the helmet. “Perhaps I’m curious,” she offers, “why _their_ child would go to such lengths to avoid using the Ragnarok System.”

Lelouch jerks his eyes forward. “It’s not an option for me,” he says, “I don’t trust the system enough to be compatible with it.”

A feminine voice announces, _Initiating Drift Sequence_.

“Well, just-- don’t chase the rabbit. Just let the memories slip by you; otherwise you’ll be overwhelmed.” C.C. advises, a moment before Lelouch jerks forward; her memories and his expanding outwards, clashing. They overlay in his vision, blurring against his view of the cockpit for just seconds of clarity before sliding away.

A small green haired girl on a dirt road; older, alone at a party; a woman in a nun’s cap; a church; a picnic, surrounded by friends; another party, her hair done up; a--

> \-- _Pilot C.C. is out of alignment. I repeat, Pilot C.C. is out of alignment--_

The cockpit disappears, and Lelouch opens his eyes to a church. A green haired girl-- C.C., around the age he is now-- is crying against the podium, her clothes soaked in blood. She is staring outwards, eyes glassy, at the body of a nun; in contrast with her sorrow, there is a peaceful smile on the woman’s lips. The blood pooling against the flooring makes Lelouch jerk backwards, remember-- 

> _\--louch is slipping out of alignment. Both pilots are now out of alignment, you need to disconnect them NOW--_

Remember his sister’s body on the ground, blood pouring from her eyes like tears, her legs frighteningly still as her torso and arms erupt in motion. His mother, bent over her and pulling a helmet off; machinery powering down under his father’s hands; frowns on their lips. Screaming, he’s screaming, rushing towards her and his parents turn away--

> _Terminating Drift Sequence_.

Lelouch shudders to focus in his harness, blinks and pulls his body to face the other pilot’s. Because what you see in the Drift, the setting and people-- they’re real. They’re memories that were intense enough to resonate, to drag them down into fixation and terror.

C.C. looks at him, face a shade paler and lips tight, and says:

“I didn’t realize they used their daughter.”

...

Siegfried’s remaining barbs all retract into its main body abruptly, one scraping away a chunk from Gawain’s blade. Lelouch grits his teeth against the flare of pain in his arm at the pull. Underneath him, the Kaiju is twisting, its eyes focusing on something in the sky.

Before he can look, its barbs eject outwards-- the friction is enough to tear his blade in two, leaving the pointed shard embedded in the Kaiju’s flesh and pinning it to the ground. The relief in being able to release the hilt of his blade is overshadowed by terror as one of the barbs tears open the cockpit.

Pain erupts in his chest and Lelouch stares at Siegfried directly for the first time.

A sound breaks through his scattered thoughts.

Dispersion of plasma particulates, Lloyd had described proudly when he first announced the technology, the sound is that of particulates breaking the sound barrier.

The sound of an old-fashioned laser gun, Suzaku had whispered to Lelouch immediately, as though they were children telling secrets behind their parent’s back.

Lelouch raises his head as far as he’s able, just enough to see shining wings of the Lancelot as ( _Suzaku Suzaku Suzaku_ , his mind dumps uselessly into the Drift, causing Gawain to push itself upwards) the other Knightmare Frame catches a barb and snaps it effortlessly.

Show off, Lelouch thinks fondly.

...

“Knightmare Frame pilots are apparently all the rage,” Lelouch says, handing Suzaku a packet of paper. “Congratulations.”

“For what?” The other male takes it warily, flipping through the first few pages. “What does this even mean--?”

“They want you to do a print interview,” Lelouch shrugs, “get the people to realize that we are still at war and that the military needs their support and their money.” He leans against the fence enclosing the rooftop, settling easily next to Suzaku. “And Kallen did the last press round, so it’s your turn now.”

“Kallen could do it again,” Suzaku proposes half-heartedly.

They wince in near-unison as they remember the sparring sessions that Kallen needed after the press sessions, furious at the media would be more interested in her clothing than her service; the way her shoulders drew tight every time she was told she should just let men protect her; the marshmallow roasting they held over the remains of the yellow press tour dress.

“...I’ll just go prepare,” Suzaku says. He smiles when Lelouch fails to look pleased at his choice, lets his hand run along the other male’s shoulder and squeeze lightly before letting go. “If nothing else, at least they won’t have the chance to awkwardly zoom in on my crotch.”

Lelouch snorts, “I can’t imagine how many copies of that interview video are still circulating-- it’s a wonder that they’re letting you get away with a print one this time, I’m sure you inflated their ratings obscenely.”

“It wasn’t--”

“There was a screenshot of your crotch on the training room wall for months,” Lelouch reminds him unnecessarily, “There was a viral comment calling your fans to ‘imagine the musk wafting off your pure white suit’.”

Suzaku opens his mouth to retort.

“They increased the security around the Shatterdome because they were concerned that Knightmare fanatics would break in to sniff you.” His friend continues.

“I--”

“It only stopped after we released a statement that you smelled, and I quote, _citrusy and warm with a sweet undertone_.”

Suzaku turns away, heading towards the exit to the roof. “One day they’ll get you to do one of these press tours, and I will mock you _endlessly_.”

“It won’t happen,” he hears behind him as he pointedly shuts the door, “because unlike some people, I have a contract.”

...

Working in tandem, Lancelot and Gekka sever the flailing tail of the removed barb easily, and Lelouch is once again reminded why Suzaku makes the second half of their advance team.

At this point, the Gawain is a sitting target-- no shoulder cannons, no right leg, no sword, cockpit exposed-- as a commander, Lelouch would be pulling the fire away from any Knightmare Frame that was this vulnerable. If this were a standard situation, Lelouch would be ordering the pilot to use the escape pod and leave the Gawain for ground crew to pick up after everything had settled.

But reality rarely caters such standard situations, and the earlier strike to his cockpit had also damaged the escape pod.

With only one barb remaining, there’s a chance that Lelouch can back out here, pull the Gawain out of the battle radius and let Lancelot and Gekka finish off the Kaiju. There’s a chance that he would even get in the way of defeating it, this close to the main body. Lelouch exhales, starts gathering his strength for the undoubtedly arduous task of moving away from the battle. A moment later, he starts to pull Gawain from its pinning position.

It’s a mistake.

 _The Kaiju are learning,_ he had said, minutes-hours-ages ago.

He had been right, Lelouch thinks slowly, watching the remaining barb release towards his cockpit, Siegfried taking advantage of his retreat.

He hadn’t been able to draw back far enough, Lelouch thinks. The distance between the barb’s release point and his cockpit was-- negligible, at the speed it was moving.

 _No time to respond_ , Lelouch thinks.

Then, a soft call into the silent Drift, _Suzaku-- you were right about my reflexes._

Impact.

...

The Gawain is too slow to be used on the frontline-- Lelouch and C.C. know this, have never planned to be on the frontline when they are better at providing support.

Shatterdome 11, situated a mere thirty kilometers from the Breach, boasts one of the most effective fleets at Kaiju containment and destruction. And Shatterdome 11 label or not, it is Lelouch’s fleet and his strategy drives it. His tactics were built against the monsters who creep towards civilization (towards _Nunnally_ ), and he hasn’t lost yet.

Kallen’s Guren is out towards the periphery of the battle, bearing down on one of the Kaiju to kill it further from the coastline. Both Kaiju that had emerged from the Breach used acid that had already eaten away at the armor on their mechas. If the acid accumulated on the beachside the results would be disastrous.

“Gawain! From behind--” Suzaku’s voice rings out over the comm, a moment too late; a sear of pain along their backs as acid eats away at Gawain’s Float system and they’re falling--

 _The sea_ , C.C. offers into the Drift, _it’ll break most of our fall._

Lelouch opens his eyes, breath coming fast-- if they are falling, then they need to know how to respond once they are submerged-- where are the others--

They’re too high, Lelouch realizes abruptly. At this height, they’ll both pass out when they hit the water, and Gawain will sink. It’s unlikely that they’ll escape without head trauma-- the harnesses in the cockpit aren’t designed to support crashes-- If they’re lucky, Lelouch thinks, they’ll be fine.

But Lelouch has never believed in luck. He’d rather believe in the tangible things: tactics, pilots, mechas.

The belief holds fast as Lancelot comes into view and then dips, getting underneath Gawain. A moment later, pressure under their feet and their descent slows.

Gawain and Lancelot crash into the sea together.

Lelouch grits his teeth as they make contact with the water, the sound of metal crunching as they are submerged. They surface just a moment before the Lancelot, and begin to tread water.

Suzaku’s voice comes crackling over the comms. “Are you two alright?” He sounds a bit strained, and Lelouch starts taking inventory of the damage.

“The attack took out our cannons and Float System,” Lelouch responds, “but otherwise we’re intact. Thanks to you.” The Lancelot’s arms are mangled from supporting the Gawain’s weight; combat options are becoming more limited, and there’s still one enemy on the field.

 _Lelouch_ , C.C. prods him, _enemy on our six._ Gawain twists slowly, watches the Kaiju’s acid sac inflate-- they’ll have a projectile on the way.

Lancelot is fast enough to intercept, but without its arms or armor he would take the hit on his cockpit-- not worth the risk. Gawain isn’t nearly fast enough to do the same, but if they can cover Lancelot, they’ll prevent further damage to their most mobile Knightmare Frame. It’s still high risk, but the probability of victory is highest with Lancelot remaining on the field.

C.C.’s agreement with this assessment echoes, and they move to cover Lancelot as best they can.

The instant the Kaiju’s mouth opens, a blur of red crashes into it, acid erupting into the immediate area as the Kaiju stutters and stills.

Lelouch blinks.

“Sorry to interrupt you three,” Kallen says cheerfully into the comms, “but it looked like you were struggling a bit.”

“A bit,” Lelouch responds, strangled.

Suzaku, an instant later, splutters, “Were you two about to _cover_ me--”

“Thank you Kallen,” C.C. interrupts.

“I could have _dodged_ that, easily!”

She continues, nonchalant, “it’s always nice to have a dependable pilot on the field.”

“Ah, well,” Kallen says, “it might be a bit too early for you to say that.”

Lelouch stares at Guren in the distance, calculates the splash radius of the acid. “Status of the Guren.”

“Legs and arms are offline-- took out the neural connections, since I’m not feeling any pain from them,” Kallen reports, “Float system compromised. It appears I hit the acid sac on my way down."

It’s difficult not to tense. With the Guren and Lancelot damaged, their fleet was effectively without a frontline for the foreseeable future.

“Suzaku,” C.C. says a moment later, picking up the stray thought that Lelouch let into the Drift, “It’s so nice of you to volunteer to ferry Gawain and Guren back to base.”

...

Lelouch doesn’t remember passing out.

This is what he remembers: the groan of metal tearing, fingers pressing sharp pain into his body, the smell of iron and seawater, the hiss of the spinal clamp being pulled from his back--

The faintest smell of citrus and earth, sweet like the first oranges of the spring season.

...

The embrace is abrupt, Suzaku’s arms going tight around him as he enters the hangar. Lelouch lets himself relax against the other male, turn his head so their cheeks brush as they breathe.

“It was noisy without you,” Suzaku mutters. Behind him, two engineers freeze as they make eye contact with Lelouch, nodding to him before moving away quickly. They’ll clear the hangar, Lelouch knows, so he focuses on Suzaku.

“I’m surprised you didn’t burn off the stress in the combat rooms.” Lelouch returns.

Suzaku goes a little stiff, his face warming against Lelouch’s own. “They, uh.”

He pulls back a bit to look at Suzaku incredulously, “Did you get banned from the combat rooms?”

“No,” Suzaku says mulishly, “I was allowed if Kallen came with me.”

“You needed a babysitter,” Lelouch translates.

“If you must put it that way,” Suzaku says, “I suppose I did, given that my usual one _ran away_.”

“I came back,” Lelouch says, and then, quieter, “I come back for people who are important to me.”

Something softens in Suzaku, a tension Lelouch hadn’t realized was thrumming beneath his fingertips until it vanished. “We’re,” Suzaku says, and-- oh, this is a wound that runs deep because Lelouch had intended it to be that way, something that would cut through Suzaku’s obstinance, push it down and out of the way.

“People lie because they yearn for something,” Lelouch says, settles back into Suzaku’s embrace, “and I don’t hug fools.”

If the other male’s arms tighten around him, he doesn’t mention it.

...

Lelouch is frighteningly still on the medbay bed, breaths shallow enough to move his chest only the barest amount. Only his eyes seem to be in motion, moving beneath half-lidded eyes; the other male is focused on everything and nothing. Suzaku grasps his limp hand, contact distracting him from the nausea rising in his throat.

 _Expect brain damage_ , C.C. had told Suzaku, moments before she had been taken for her own examination. _If we’re lucky, it will be minimal. But he was connected for a long time so he-- he might not wake up, either._

The medic says, from the end of the bed, “His brain activity is intact-- it still looks like he’s conscious, but he’s not awakening. It’s almost as though he’s still in the Drift, chasing the random brain impulse triggers.” She taps the screen with a finger.

There’s a smear of blood across the front of Suzaku’s flight suit, where Lelouch’s head rested. He reaches out, wipes at the trail of blood running down the other male’s face.

“If he’s still in the Drift--” Suzaku says hopefully, pauses. “Then--”

“We should be able to get him out,” C.C. agrees from the door. She’s still in her flight suit, bandages peeking out from the tears in the fabric. “But we’ll have to hook him up again.” Her posture is relaxed, but from the way she is leaning against the door she must be in pain. “A paired Drift-- someone will have to pull him out of his memories.” She exhales, staring at him. “Is Gawain’s Pons system still intact?”

“The main connector was destroyed,” Suzaku says. “We had to tear the spinal clamp off of him. But the Ragnarok system in Lancelot is still active and we can connect to it--”

“Lelouch hates the Ragnarok system,” C.C. says. “And so do I.”

“I know,” Suzaku admits. “But we don’t have the option of using anything else--”

“I’m not telling you that you can’t use it on him,” C.C. interrupts, looking sad as she does so. “But I won’t be the one to do that to him. I can’t.”

“Well,” The medic says, still tapping away at the screen. “You’re right that we won’t have any other options-- the nearest Pons prototype is half a continent away, and his body will shut down before that. But Kururugi has never shared a Drift, and even if this weren’t his first time, we don’t know that the two of them will be Drift compatible.”

“We can’t make him worse at this point,” C.C. says, “Why not try?”

“Incompatible Drifts may do more damage,” the other woman reasoned, “There needs to be absolute trust between the pilots-- trust you have already displayed with him. It doesn’t make sense for Kururugi to be the one to Drift with him.”

C.C. smiles. “They’ll be Drift compatible-- I guarantee it.”

...

There are two new pilots in Shatterdome 11, but only one new Knightmare Frame. It’s a big one, likely built to be able to sustain damage as opposed to speed; an older model. Along the top of its right shoulder, its call sign was embedded into the metal alloy: _GAWAIN_.

The part of Suzaku that isn’t curious is infuriated by their presence. Because while it was true that they had lost good pilots the year prior, Shatterdome 11’s fleet was like family and they weren’t looking to adopt.

The fact that one of them has the rank of field commander is a bitter taste in his mouth. Their team had always worked in tandem because they knew each other, not because they were playing pawns to some genius’s chessmaster. Rumor has it that the two of them were some sort of big-shots in their previous base, something to do with the Ragnarok system.

They’ll be in for a rude awakening if they think they would take Shatterdome 11 so easily.

(He’s surprised when he meets them. They’re both beautiful in a way that says piloting was a _choice_ , not a last resort. The _field commander_ is unbelievably unathletic for a pilot, lacking the muscle mass to take advantage of his long limbs, and his green-haired co-pilot is always the first to mock him.

They never speak of the Ragnarok system.)

...

It’s strange, entering the Drift and knowing someone is down here with him. Suzaku has been using the Ragnarok system since he began piloting, knows what memories will flash past him before the neural connection settles. A moment before it starts, he briefly wonders if Lelouch will see them, too.

A shrine, deep in the forest; practice with Toudou, blisters forming on his hands; his mother’s funeral, collateral damage from the Kaiju; arguing with his father, shouting, doesn’t he _understand_ that they have no chance against the Kaiju without outside help; riots in the streets; his father on the ground, still--

Suzaku exhales, opens his eyes to see a wide platform. The walls are high and curved inwards, an incomplete dome that flickers in and out of view, as if someone is constantly correcting its shape. In the center of the platform is a column, reaching far upwards.

Lelouch is entangled with it, and Suzaku’s breath stops.

He moves closer, runs towards the other pilot, and a quiet, quiet chorus of voices echoes behind him.

_Welcome son son SUZAKU child mine safety peace son son son._

As he approaches the column, he realizes its shape is a twisted, terrible thing, a sculpture of human agony and limbs. It’s instinct to pull Lelouch towards him, and the other male blinks slowly in awareness as he is untangled from the column. Suzaku drags Lelouch from the sculpture, cradles him. There’s something wrong with Lelouch’s left eye, Suzaku thinks, watches the delay in blink and the cloudiness that remains.

Lelouch’s hand grips Suzaku’s shoulder tightly, abrupt and terrified. “You-- what have you done, Suzaku?” His right eye is focused on the column, even as his fingers dig further into the material of Suzaku’s flight jacket.

“We’re in the Drift, Lelouch,” Suzaku says. “You’ve been stuck here since the end of the battle.”

“This isn’t the Drift,” Lelouch laughs, the sound harsh and grating, “This is the Ragnarok system.” He spreads his arms, reaching out to encompass the entire space. “You _knew_ I hated this system, Suzaku-- why would you hook me up to it?”

“Lelouch, you were--”

Lelouch finally looks at him, attention caught by the desperation in his voice. “I was dying, Suzaku.” He says firmly. “I was prepared to die.”

“No.” Suzaku grips Lelouch tighter, pulls him into his chest, and repeats, “No-- you weren’t going to die, don’t you _dare_ give up, Lelouch, not after--”

  _Die die die I don’t want to die please let me live please PLEASE I just wanted to protect my daughter please help me help me help me son son_

“What is--” Suzaku says, staring out into the emptiness. “What is that?”

“I imagine you can’t normally hear them,” Lelouch says, arms catching the back of Suzaku’s flight suit. “They’re--”

  _Son son son SAVE ME HELP ME PLEASE we’re going to win_

“My parent’s invention,” he says, the strength of his voice startling compared to the shaking of his fingers against Suzaku’s back. “An artificial hive mind that seeks to support the living and the dead. It-- it takes the place of the second pilot, reduces the strain to allow for a single pilot system.” Lelouch coughs wetly, clearing his throat. “And in exchange, it takes you.”

“It takes--” Suzaku starts.

“If you-- if you die while connected to the system, then it absorbs your consciousness. The more pilots that die while connected to the system, the more stable the system becomes.”

  _Son son proud child don’t you dare touch my city goodbye Lelouch welcome die die please help me_

Suzaku swallows. “Your parents-- they--”

“Yes,” Lelouch says. “They’re in here. They’ve been in here for a long time.”

...

The hallways of Shatterdome 11 are empty, most of the support crew off to the main hangars and the command room for their regular duties. The Kaiju alarms haven’t been turned on yet, but it’s only a matter of time-- it’s always only a matter of time, this close to the Breach.

Suzaku catches Lelouch’s wrist on the way to the hangar. “You have to be careful today.”

Lelouch looks insulted for a moment, then sighs. “I’m always careful.”

It’s too easy to step in closer, let his voice drop so it won’t echo in the hall. “That’s what worries me,” Suzaku admits, “because this time I may not have your back.” Lancelot is still under repair, won’t be battle ready until tomorrow. But too much time has passed since their last Kaiju appearance and estimates place another arrival today. “So you have to be more careful.” His fingers curl into Lelouch’s shoulders, gentle. “Promise me.”

“I will,” Lelouch humors him, “I promise I’ll be careful and I won’t take any unnecessary risks.” He pauses, looking as uncertain as Suzaku has ever seen him. “But if it comes down to Gawain or the coast, then--”

“I won’t let it get to that point,” Suzaku vows, “you won’t be in that situation, you--”

“You can’t promise that.” Lelouch interrupts him, harsh. “If we desire some result, we must take action-- and whatever method we take, there are consequences. On the battlefield, that means we risk life and limb to protect our precious people. Don’t you _dare_ act like I don’t have that conviction.”

Suzaku steps back. “You’re right-- I’m--”

Lelouch eyes him, frowning for the briefest moment. “I am not a child to protect.”

“I don’t-- it’s not like that. I’m not treating you like a child, I’m--” He stops, frustrated enough to run his hands through his hair to calm himself. “I--”

The feeling of Lelouch’s hands on his cheeks is a familiar one; the feeling of Lelouch’s lips is foreign and soft. The kiss is a gentle one, inexperienced, and sweeter for it. Lelouch keeps eye contact as they separate.

“You’re one of my precious people too, Suzaku.” Lelouch says, letting his hands linger even as his face flushes pink. “So you should let me protect you this time.”

...

“You need to get out of here,” Lelouch says, rubs a thumb down Suzaku’s face. “Or you won’t be able to leave.” He steps away.

“Why are you saying that,” Suzaku says, echoes of anger building in his chest, “as though you aren’t coming with me?”

Lelouch reaches for his own left eye. “I can’t see anything out of this. That means the brain damage was severe enough that at least one blood vessel in my eye burst.” He runs his fingers over his right thigh. “Gawain’s right leg was severed, and I was connected long enough that it’s likely I have nerve damage.” His chest. His shoulders. “At the minimum, I’ll develop a psychosomatic disorder when I wake up, if I have any retention of sensation. I’ll tell you this again-- I was prepared to die when I ejected C.C.”

“We fought hard to recover you-- not just Toudou and I, but the support staff that dug deeper every time they heard you scream,” Suzaku says, “and you aren’t the type of man to spit on their efforts. For your eye, we can get you a fancy eyepatch or something-- the rest we just have to train your nervous system to recognize again. That’s all.”

“That’s all, he says,” Lelouch mocks under his breath, “I will not depend on you and be treated like a burden.”

“Do you think of Nunnally as a burden?”

“Of course not--!!” Lelouch quiets abruptly, a scowl coming onto his face.

“Then you shouldn’t think of yourself that way either.”

Lelouch sighs, turning away. “And if I don’t wish to leave.”

“You hate this system,” Suzaku says, running his fingers through the fine black strands of hair at Lelouch’s nape, “there’s no way you would want to stay.”

“My parents,” Lelouch argues, “perhaps I can unweave them from this amalgamation and figure out why they designed this fatal system.”

“You would be miserable,” he responds gently. “Lelouch, why are you lying?”

Lelouch tenses, posture rigid. “Absence of your understanding does not mean that I am lying, Suzaku.”

“People lie when they’re yearning for something,” Suzaku fumbles from his memory. “So what are you yearning for?”

Lelouch looks up towards the opening of the dome. “I want tomorrow,” he says, “I want a peaceful future where we aren’t at war and I see Nunnally every day. But that is not our reality, Suzaku. Not in this world, not the way it is now. Therefore-- therefore, if I can rebuild this system from the inside, make it safer and more efficient, then perhaps I can entrust those of you outside with that future.”

Suzaku drops to the ground, a leg kicking out to slide Lelouch’s ankles out from under him. He catches Lelouch before he hits the ground, softening the impact, and looks down at the foolish man in his arms.

“That’s stupid,” he complains, “because if we leave your brain trapped here, we won’t survive long enough to utilize your system. You’d spend ages and ages building it, you damn perfectionist.”

Lelouch squawks in indignation, limbs flailing.

“Besides that,” Suzaku says, thumb drawing across Lelouch’s bottom lip, “it will be hard for me to leave my precious person behind.” He leans in slowly, gives Lelouch time to push him away. When their lips touch a second time, soft, he slides away to drop a kiss against the side of Lelouch’s mouth.  

Lelouch stares at him blankly for a moment, dazed. “C.C. will be insufferable,” He finally groans.

“Rude of you to talk about another person when I’ve just kissed you,” Suzaku comments, “But either way we’ll have to get out of here or your co-pilot will never have the opportunity tease us.”

  _No no please don’t go son son LELOUCH child good child_

“It isn’t any different from any other rapid brain impulse.”

“You can just call it a memory, you know.” Suzaku says.

Lelouch blinks. “It’s not a memory though, it’s the impression of one--”

“Okay,” Suzaku agrees, “so then, to…”

“We reject its reality,” Lelouch says, staring at the column. He closed his eyes, exhaling. “In the end, this is a construct of the Drift, and nothing more. The system will exist whether we stay here or not.” Opens them. “This was the dream of my selfish parents who sacrificed Nunnally and I, and _I reject it._ ”

The dome around them blurs, voices growing louder and indistinct. The walls curl in like paper sheets, the middle column shaking and dissolving into the air. The platform drops out beneath them, stone bouncing off nonexistent obstacles and vanishing. And they, too fall--

Fall through the blur of memories that is comforting in its familiarity, and Suzaku doesn’t try to look, just lets himself fall and jerk awake in a medbay bed, modified helmet still attached to his head. He pulls it off with a grimace, lets it fall onto the bed as he follows the cord to the other side of a medbay curtain.

Lelouch’s body is laden with bandages, but beneath the helmet his eyes are open and turned to Suzaku. Gentle fingers pry the helmet from Lelouch’s head, careful of his head wound, and he steals a kiss before putting it to the side.

“My contract was never with the military,” Lelouch says, turning over in the medbay bed, “so I’m not filling out any fraternization forms.” He leaves his hand flopped over the edge of the bed, fingers splayed.

Suzaku reaches out and laces their fingers together, pulls their joined hands up to place a kiss at Lelouch’s wrist. He closes his eyes as he measures the steady pulse against his lips and smiles when he hears Lelouch turn, eyes opening to see Lelouch reaching for him. And inevitably, inevitably, Suzaku will lean down to kiss Lelouch, a collision of two orbiting bodies drawn together by something just as powerful as gravity.

Over the next day, the news that Lelouch is awake will spread through Shatterdome 11 and Suzaku will have to defend his place at Lelouch’s bedside against flowers and wellwishers alike. C.C. will laugh at them when she sees them together, something soft and relieved and teasing all at once. Amongst the steady flow of people in the room, Kallen will be silent, guilty for not having fought, and Suzaku will let her be for now, because he would have felt the same way. And in the quiet moments, Suzaku will look at Lelouch, bandaged and tired, and think, _finally, finally_.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are adored! <3


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